


With My Own Hands

by kat_snow2613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Grief, Loss, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_snow2613/pseuds/kat_snow2613
Summary: Jon tries to comfort Sansa after a second miscarriage.





	With My Own Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I love to read and write about Sansa becoming a Mom. But I think that a miscarriage would likely be part of that experience, like it is for so many women. 
> 
> I know this is a very triggering and sensitive topic for so many women who have been affected by the loss of pregnancy, so please be warned.

It was late afternoon by the time Jon returned through the Hunter’s Gate. He smiled when Aemon and Brandon ran up to him, shouting for his attention. He jumped down to greet them. They demanded to know what he had killed, and when they would be allowed to join the hunt.

His laughter died when he saw Sam running towards him, his Maester’s chains swaying, his face distorted with stress. 

“Jon…” his friend began. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Sam gestured towards the children. Jon kneeled and told the boys to return to their Master at Arms, and he would be along to see their progress shortly. 

Alone, Jon turned to Sam and repeated his question. 

“Sansa...after breakfast she began to have cramps. She returned to bed, where she began to bleed,” Sam said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“The baby,” Jon interrupted. 

“Is gone. I’m so sorry, my friend, but the thing to remember is…” Sam continued to speak, but Jon couldn’t hear him. He started running towards the Keep. He could hear Sam shouting behind him, but he just kept running. 

He got to Sansa’s chambers and flung the doors open. She was surrounded by a cluster of maids and nurses. They were all at some task, whether it was stripping bloody sheets from her bed, or helping Sansa clean up and change. 

“Get out, all of you,” he ordered. There was a stunned pause followed by a burst of activity as they all rushed to complete their task and leave the chamber as quickly as possible. 

Sansa’s back was to him. She sat on the bed, her normally proud shoulders slumped over. He walked to her and knelt in front of her. 

“I’m so sorry Jon,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. 

“No, my love, do not apologize, this is not your fault. It’s mine. I should have been here,” he said, taking her hands. 

“There’s nothing you could have done. Once the bleeding started, nothing would stop it. We tried everything,” she said, letting out a sob. 

“I know, I know,” he said, rising to sit on the bed and wrap his arms around her. 

He sat, letting her cry. Jon’s heart ached. He did not grieve so much for the babe he barely knew, but for his wife, who already knew the babe made from her own body and heart. 

Jon kissed the top of Sansa’s head and murmured gently to her. Her sobs began to soften, and he hoped she might be calm enough to get some rest. But she began to try to speak.

“Jon, this is the second time…” she struggled. “The second time I’ve lost one, what if I can’t have any more?” she asked.

“Then we have two beautiful boys,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “We have two beautiful children, Sansa. I love you, and I love them, more than I could imagine.”

“But I want more children, Jon, I want a girl. And more boys. And more after that. What if I can’t have them?” she asked, clutching him.

“I do not think that is the case. I think you will bring us more children,” he said, hoping his words were comforting. 

“When?” she asked, desperate for relief from her pain. 

That broke his heart all over again, for it was the one thing he could not tell her. 

“I don’t know when,” he admitted. “But I know that I love you no matter what.”

He pulled Sansa down to lie with him. She rested against his chest, and eventually surrendered to the physical and emotional exhaustion. Jon lay awake, stroking her hair, wishing he could take this pain away from her. 

Time brought more children. It wasn’t two years before Lyarra arrived, wasting no time before shouting loudly to the world that she was there. Daena was quiet, peacefully settling on Sansa’s breast. Benjen looked around, taking in the world, before locking eyes with Jon. 

It was no time at all before the children were nearly grown, already beginning to fall in and out of love. 

One day, Jon was searching for some fresh linen in one of Sansa’s drawers. Not finding anything and with none of her maids in sight, he kept digging through several chests, sorting through clothes he suspected were a few years old.

He pushed aside a smile pile of embroidery, but one piece caught his eye. He looked more closely. 

He recognized Sansa’s delicate stitching, white flowers in a circle around two names and dates. He recognized the names “Robb” and “Catelyn.” But the dates on the embroidery did not match up with the years either of them had lived. Sadness twisted in his stomach as he understood the dates.

That night he and Sansa sat in front of the fire. She hummed softly as she stitched some new piece. 

“I found some of your embroidery today,” he mentioned. 

“Well I should hope so, half of the things you’re wearing are by my hand,” she laughed. 

“Something I hadn’t seen before. Something that made me very sad, because you hadn’t told me about it,” he said. She immediately knew what he meant and her expression changed entirely. 

“I wish you told me Sansa. I would have done something,” he reached for her hand. “I can commission a piece by the mason, something out of stone? Or metalwork? Whatever you want.”

She forced a smile. “You’re kind, my love. But it was something I had to do with my own hands.”

Jon wished he understood better. “Why those names? You never suggested Robb or Catelyn for the children...for the other children.”

“I would have been too painful for one of them, to call them that every day. But for the ones we lost it felt right. I think because I never got to say goodbye, to any of them,” she said. Jon would have wished for her to show some emotion, even sadness, but she simply stated it as fact. 

Not for the first time in his life, Jon sank to his knees in front of Sansa. He pulled her to him and whispered. “I’m sorry, my love. I wish there was something I could do.”

She held his face in her hands. 

“You have loved me, Jon Snow,” she began. “And you gave me five beautiful, healthy children. You have done everything you could.”

She leaned forward to kiss his lips. He held onto her, holding the kiss just a moment longer.

He ran his hands over her middle. “We’re still young, Sansa. Maybe I can give you another,” he said. 

She smiled and ran her hands through his hair. “Perhaps. If we’re lucky.”

He kissed her again, before murmuring against her lips, “I think we’re very lucky.”


End file.
